


Red Widows

by orphan_account



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Alcohol, Cuddling, Drabble, Dreams and Nightmares, F/F, Implied Sexual Content, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-10
Updated: 2015-11-10
Packaged: 2018-04-30 21:54:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5181083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some nights, Angelina can sleep just fine. Some nights, she has dreams of horrid things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red Widows

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Красные вдовы](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6214129) by [Frau_Anhelika_Rotenstaub](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frau_Anhelika_Rotenstaub/pseuds/Frau_Anhelika_Rotenstaub)
  * Translation into Українська available: [Червоні вдови](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6235750) by [Frau_Anhelika_Rotenstaub](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frau_Anhelika_Rotenstaub/pseuds/Frau_Anhelika_Rotenstaub)



Grelle Sutcliff was a creature of the night. The nights she found genuine rest were few and far between. Most of the time, she would spend nights browsing Angelina’s library and sometimes curled up with a volume from the more secret sections. Other nights, Grelle took comfort in the warmth of Angelina’s body, watching her breasts rise and fall.   
The nights she spent next to Angelina were the best by far, even better than nights when she could sleep.  
Some nights, Angelina herself needed help sleeping. Those nights, a glass of gin was usually enough to calm Angelina’s frayed and still fraying nerves. Grelle was more than glad to serve. Other nights, Angelina needed more than just gin to settle herself before bed. Grelle was even happier to serve.  
Grelle, in sleeping at Lady Red’s side like a loyal hound, noticed patterns.  
Angelina, on the nights she went without gin and with flesh, would fall asleep easier. She often rested her head on Grelle’s chest. Her breathing evened out and, if she wanted, Grelle could move. Not that she would want to when Angelina was so warm and lovely.  
About an hour after Angelina fell asleep (And Grelle knew because she would count the chimes of the clock from the study downstairs), she would start to move. Some nights she moaned and some she didn’t.   
On the night of November sixth, she didn’t moan in terror. Instead, she sobbed and woke up with a startled scream. Grelle sat up, pulling Angelina to her chest.  
“What’s wrong?” Grelle asked. “A dream?”  
“A nightmare,” Angelina said, trembling. “It was awful.”  
Grelle stood up, pulling on a nightgown. She brought Angelina a glass of gin, one Angelina drank quickly. Grelle set the glass aside and sat down on the bed.  
“Tell me about it,” Grelle begged, cupping Angelina’s cheek.  
“I had a dream you left me,” Angelina said, voice cracking. “You left me in Whitechapel and just walked off.”  
“I would never,” Grelle assured her.  
Angelina sighed. “You say you won’t, but I don’t know what to think. That nightmare felt so real.”  
“You’re safe, An,” Grelle said softly, running her nails through her hair. “I’m here and I’m going to keep you safe.”  
“What if you’re the thing I’m not safe from?”  
Grelle pursed her lips. She sighed and pointed out, “You are sleeping with Death.”  
Angelina shuddered in her arms and Grelle narrowed her eyes.  
“What else happened in your dream?” Grelle asked.  
“There was a . . . a box of some sort. It was very small and I couldn’t move,” Angelina whispered. “It might’ve been a coffin.”  
“A coffin?” Grelle asked. “You need another drink.”  
Angelina didn’t say anything and Grelle stood up. She pulled herself away, fixing Angelina another drink. Grelle held the glass up to Angelina’s lips when she wouldn’t take it.  
After a few sips of gin, Angelina looked up at Grelle.  
“I fear you,” Angelina admitted.  
“It was a dream,” Grelle said firmly, setting the glass aside. “You’re the one I should fear. Humans are unpredictable.”  
Slowly, Angelina laid down. Instead of forcing herself into the comfort of Grelle’s arms, Angelina turned away from her. Slighted, Grelle decided to leave Angelina be. This would be a night well-spent reading some of the more vulgar contents of Angelina’s library.


End file.
